


titanesque

by ultraviolets



Series: Guro Challenge [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Amputation, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolets/pseuds/ultraviolets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[1/33] Amputation. (Spoilers: Ch. 49-51)<br/>this isn't really guro. it was supposed to be, but something happened. oops. i promise the next one will be sufficiently vile!</p>
            </blockquote>





	titanesque

**Author's Note:**

> these are exercises and not meant to illustrate quality. as such, they are unedited and have not been proof-read. sorry in advance for any mistakes!

Gaping mouths, with dull rows of flat teeth and throats that reach back, back into stench and fume. The titan’s mouth is not moist. In fact, it is eerily dry as it encases Erwin’s arm, and the last sensation present in that most valuable limb is the roughness of tongue and certain pain.

He dreams of blood in his nostrils, a red post-nasal drip gurgling wetly at the back of his throat. The scent of it is thick and familiar and it fills his lungs, the warm fluid rushing in even as he coughs and splutters. He feels his arm where it no longer exists, a haunting memory of sensation. He imagines there’s bone that ends in a joint that connects to another bone and so on. He sees stringy veins and tender nerves, wrapped around titan-esque muscle and tendon. He mentally initiates movement and his stump flexes, a fat, thick thing. An upper arm that was always there, but now seems foreign and new. It ends in black blood and twitches desperately, disproportionate to the rest of his frame. He is asymmetrical and deformed: hideously inhuman. The chords of his body dangle from the cut flesh, a tangle of veins like yarn pulled loose from a sweater. He is unravelling. A tug on one dripping nerve and his skin falls away from his skeleton like an opened peel, revealing all the meaty flesh inside. It gathers around his bony feet and he becomes a sepulchral monster, a parody of humanity, his true face. Unbalanced and vulnerable.

He feels insecurity like a wrench in his ribcage, stuck between bone and supple lung. How can he command the able bodied when he is not as such himself? How can a handicapped commander hold sway over soldiers younger and healthier?  How can he command with words and with force when he’s past his prime, expended his heroics on a miscalculated battle? Motivational speeches mid-fight on the field are a thing of the past, Erwin knows this now. He wakes from his dream in a pool of sweat, pores leaking and eyes wide with horror and realization. His throat works to form a name but sound evades him. He flexes for the desk beside him and sees no movement, a reminder that no, it wasn’t just a dream, his right arm really is --

“Erwin,” a voice says. It is deep in timbre and familiar.

A body is near his all too quickly, holding the pitcher he couldn’t reach for, pouring water into a glass he can only hold with one hand. His options are limited. His life, restricted. He feels confined to Left where before he could choose Right and suddenly the room feels claustrophobic.

“Drink,” the voice commands.

Erwin does. The water sits in his gut and sloshes around with the clench of his starving stomach. He looks at Levi’s hands, connected to arms that hang by his side. He can’t bring himself to look up into his partner’s face, fearing the sympathy and grief he might see there. Instead, he places the glass on the table and reaches out to touch Levi’s right forearm, the one nearest him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, voice raw from screaming in pain, and pulls Levi onto the bed.

“My shoes are on,” Levi tells him in a gentle tone.

He leans across Erwin’s chest, left arm on the mattress, and leaves his legs off the side. Erwin thinks it must be uncomfortable as he rests his hand on Levi’s thigh. He fingers one of the straps around Levi’s leg, presses into the musculature there and feels how firm it is. There is power in every limb and Erwin knows his legs are that strong, as well. A hand approaches his face tentatively and Erwin flinches away from it. It settles on his neck instead, warm and comforting.

“Look at me,” Levi whispers. “Please, just look at me.”

Erwin hesitates a moment, lifts his arm to cover that hand with his own, and looks up. Levi’s expression is open and there is a small indent between his brows as they press together with emotion and strain. Erwin sees his jaw work as he grits his teeth and thinks there’s power there, too. Two blunt rows of teeth that gnash and gnaw and pulverise flesh--

“I will not leave you,” Levi tells him, insistent, and Erwin makes eye contact. “Whatever you want from me, I will give you. Whatever you want me to be, I’ll be.”

“Levi,” Erwin’s voice cracks and Levi hushes him, eyes squeezing shut with frustration.

He sits up fully and lifts his right arm, clenching his hand into a fist and brandishing the strength in his extensor muscles and triceps. Erwin sees tendons tighten beneath layered sinew and it’s beautiful and sensual in nature.

“This arm is yours,” Levi tells him. “You had four arms before, Erwin. So what if you lost one? You still have one more than every other man.”

Levi lowers the arm to cross his chest in a salute and the action reminds Erwin that he no longer can.

“Everything about me is yours to command,” Levi is reminding him of something he already knew, yet it takes on a different meaning, now. “This arm, this body, goes where you tell it to. I am merely an extension of yourself.”

Erwin is silent, hand grasping Levi’s wrist and pulling it away from his chest. His hand glides over Levi’s arm, across taught skin and past elbow, resting on relaxed bicep.

“Levi,” Erwin tries again. His voice does not crack this time; it is just as sure as he is. “Your body is your own. You belong to no one but yourself. How you choose to serve is your own decision to make.”

“I choose,” Levi interjects. His face is determined, eyes like candles in a lantern, illuminating the dark path ahead. “I choose this.”

Erwin looks toward the wrapped stump on his right side. An abstract appendage, cruel in its display of failure. It mocks him. He closes his eyes and imagines his stitches tearing and his flesh stretching long out beside him. Anatomy reforms as the tendons and muscles knit themselves together again. He could be whole. Erwin looks at Levi’s arm longingly, a fleeting jealousy passing across his face and sealing his throat. He could be whole. He squeezes Levi’s elbow, thumb on his pulse, and feels the blood moving through his veins. They twitch to the beat of his heart. Despair overwhelms him and Erwin feels half human, as if that’s all he’ll ever be again.

**Author's Note:**

> http://grossuke.tumblr.com


End file.
